


that's the spirit

by oakleaf_bearer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Canon Asexual Character, Ghosts, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, YouTube, jon is a ghost hunting youtuber, martin is a ghost, the inherent romanticism of hauntings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakleaf_bearer/pseuds/oakleaf_bearer
Summary: Jon is a sceptic who runs a ghost hunting youtube channel with Georgie. While investigating Moorland House, he finds something that challenges his staunch denial of the paranormal.If he falls in love along the way, then that's hardly the worst thing in the world.-martin is a ghost, jon is a sceptic, now kiss
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 148
Kudos: 305





	1. i aint afraid of no ghosts

Moorland House was big, old, and yes, even Jon had to admit, spooky. It sat, squat and ugly, looming out of the Kent countryside, it's dark walls silhouetted against the early evening sky. 

"Nice place, huh?" Georgie called from where she was leaning out of the van. 

"Hmm." was all Jon said in response. It was sufficiently atmospheric that he was in no doubt that their viewers would find some unexplained shadow in the corner of the screen and use it as undeniable proof. The whole affair was ridiculous in Jon's opinion. 

"Come on, it'll be fun." Georgie jumped down from the van, camera in hand. "This isn't the most haunted place we've ever been, you can continue your little sceptic act no trouble."

"It's not an act."

"Sure."

"If ghosts were real, there would be infinitely more evidence than the handful of mildly unexplained occurrences. Most 'evidence' is cheap mockery of the paranormal at best and ridiculously idiotic at worst." 

She groaned. "You're such a buzzkill. Lighten up, have a bit of fun. If you're always so stuffy and academic then you'll never actually have a good time."

"I'm having a lovely time. I just don't think there's ghosts." 

"You two done?" Tom asked, coming around the side of the van. "We do actually have a show to film." 

"Fine, yes, alright. Go on, grumpy, go get your camera." She pushed him gently towards the van. He rolled his eyes and went over to Tim, letting him strap the go-pro onto his chest and hand him all of the various pieces of equipment. 

"Right." Tim clapped him on the shoulder. "Go bust some ghosts."

"Unlikely." 

"That's the spirit." 

Jon scoffed and turned back to Georgie, who was just setting up the tripod for introduction. 

"Right, shall we get this over with?"

"You're grumpier than usual today. What's up?" She frowned at him. 

He sighed. "We promised we wouldn't fall into cliche. Big old country house? That's cliche!"

"Oh and that hospital wasn't?" 

"The hospital had a supposed 'demonic presence', not a two-bit ghost story. This is cheap."

She fixed him with a look. "I hate to break it to you Jon, but one of these days you're going to actually start paying attention. These places are haunted for a reason, people don't just decided to start seeing ghosts."

He rolled his eyes, but said nothing. They'd had this argument plenty of times, a repeat was worthless. She'd argue the international spread of the concept of ghost sightings, the occurrences of ghosts in serval cultures, the small shreds of evidence that couldn't quite be pinned down, while he'd argue rational thought, science, and logic. It was a lighthearted debate they'd been having since university, so much so that they'd decided to start a youtube channel documenting their attempts to find proof either way. People had found it, caught upon their banter and friendship, and they'd slowly built up a fairly sizeable following. It had annoyed Jon at first, but he'd eventually just embraced it. Why fight change, he supposed. 

"Now, if you're done," Georgie said. "I'd like to start filming while we still have time."

-

If Moorland House had seemed ominous from the outside, inside was far, far worse. The house was cold; even the thick walls were unable to keep the heat in. It seemed to leach out through crakes in windowpanes and the cracks under doors. 

Jon was on the second floor, wandering down a corridor, torch in hand. Tim had sent him to explore the upper floors and find some, in his words, 'spooky happenings'. Jon chattered away to the camera strapped to his chest, commenting on the quality of the tapestries around the decidedly un-haunted room. 

A small creak came from further down the corridor behind him. Jon span around. 

"Hello? Georgie, was that you? 

Silence. 

"Georgie, this isn't funny. You promised to stop doing this." 

The beam of light from Jon's torch wasn't bright enough to illuminate the corridor in its entirety. 

"Ridiculous. It's just an old house, of course it makes noises." He muttered. His camera let out a pitiful beep and shut off. "Oh for goodness sake." Frustrated, he started pressing buttons, hoping that one of them would fix the problem. 

Something grabbed his shoulder. He startled, stumbling forwards, shaking off the ice-cold contact. 

"Who's there?" He demanded, shining his torch towards the empty space where he had just stood. 

A hushed breath across his neck had him staggering in the opposite direction. 

"What the fuck?" What the fuck, what the fuck, what the _fuck_????

A thousand possibilities danced across his thoughts. This was Georgie playing a prank. Tim playing a prank. Both of them teaming up to play a prank. Georgie had finally decided to outright start faking evidence for their show rather than let the fans interpret it from the videos and had forgotten or decided not to tell Jon for some inexplicable reason. He'd misinterpreted a small breeze and the sounds of the house settling as something much, much stranger. 

"Who is there?" He demanded, waving his torch around frantically. 

The corridor was empty, almost boringly so. After the initial burst of panic had passed, Jon was left in an almost silent room, hands shaking, feeling staggeringly ridiculous and almost grateful that his camera had glitched out and not captured his outburst. 

"Oh very good, Sims. You're jumping at shadows now." He muttered to himself, fiddling with the buttons of the camera. "Wait till Georgie hears about this." 

He turned, ready to head back down to the ground floor and forget about Moorland House and it's ridiculous drafts- 

And stopped short, face to face with a man. 

Jon sprang back, crying out. 

The man shushed him, holding up his hands. 

"Shh, be quiet, please don't panic, just be quiet." 

"Wha- what? Where did you come from?"

Jon shined his torch over the mans form. He didn't cast a shadow on the wall behind him. 

"Please." The man begged, reaching for him. "You need to leave, it's not safe here." 

"Who are you?" 

"He's coming, you need to go!" 

"What?" Jon demanded. "Who, who is coming?"

"Do you always ask this many questions?" The man grumbled, grabbing at Jon's hand. The sudden contact startled Jon enough that the man was able to pull him through the doorway, hurrying them both down the corridor. 

"Wha- where are we going?"

"Why don't you listen? You," He pointed at Jon with one semi-translucent finger. "Need to leave. You clearly cannot be trusted to do that on your own, so I am taking you to the front door, which you will go through and never come back. Understand?" 

"What about you?"

"Out of luck there." The man dragged him through a door down a set of narrow stairs. "Can't leave when your unfinished business is restricted to this house."

"Unfinished- wait, you're messing with me." Jon stopped short a couple of steps above the man. "There's no way."

"There is a way. What do you want me to do, make a cold patch?" He tugged at Jon's hand, trying to get him to move again. "Flicker some lights? Write some ominous messages on the bathroom mirror? Please, we don't have time for you to reevaluate your world view."

"Ghosts aren't real."

"Boo." 

"It's not possible." 

Somewhere high above them, a door slammed. 

"I assure you it is." The man pulled him down a few more steps until they were level. "Listen, I'd love to debate the theological implications of ghosts, but if you don't leave, you're going to be getting a first hand demonstration. Please, I promise it's not worth it." 

Jon stared at him. The mans face was full of anxiety and his hand in Jon's was icy cold. 

"Okay."

He let out a relieved noise and Jon let him pull him down the narrow staircase and out towards the entrance. They slowed as they reached a door. 

"Okay, through there is the exit. Take your team and go." 

"Wait!" Jon grabbed at his jacket. It slipped through his hands. "What's your name?" 

The man huffed. "Martin. Now leave." 

Martin wrenched the door open and shoved him through. Jon stumbled out into the foyer of the house, colliding with a warm shape. 

"Oof ouch, alright there Jon?" Tim patted him on the shoulder. 

"Tim!" Jon grabbed at him. "We need to leave."

"Woah, slow down buddy, what's up?"

"Just-" Jon grabbed his shoulder and shoved him towards the door. "Go."

"Jesus, okay, fine, let me get the camera."

"Everything alright?" Georgie called from where she was descending the stairs. She grinned. "What's gotten into you Jon, you look like you've seen a ghost?" 

The grin vanished as she took in the expression on Jon's face. 

"Jon, talk to us." Tim placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Please, I just want to leave."

"Did you see something?" Georgie seemed slightly too excited. A shadow moved in the corner of Jon's eye. He flinched, colliding with Tim again. 

"Jon-"

" _Please_."

Tim stared down at him, bafflement written across his face. "Alright. Alright, we'll go."

"We don't have all the footage we need." Georgie started. Tim cut her off with a glare. 

"We'll work around it. It's fine." Tim grabbed the tripod and lifted it over his shoulder, gesturing towards the door. "Come on. I'll text the caretaker and let him know we're heading out early."

Jon paced by the van as they loaded the equipment, staring up at the windows, searching for some movement, some sign that he wasn't loosing his mind. 

"Jon." Tim called, holding open the door into the van.

Jon hurried over and climbed inside, sandwiching himself between Georgie and Tim. He fidgeted as Tim turned the key and the van tumbled to life. As Moorland House vanished in the rear view mirror, Jon snatched Tim's bag off the floor. 

"Jon, what now?"

He wrenched the zip open, ignoring Tim's shouts of protest. Inside, he riffled around until he found Tim's notebook and a pen. Scrambling for a free page, he started scribbling, desperately trying to get down the image of the man. 

Soft curls, a round friendly face, two shining, grey eyes. Jon stared down at the page. Martin stared back at him. 

He tore out the page and stuffed it into his pocket, ignoring Georgie's worried looks.

"Drive." 

High above them, Martin stood in one of the big old windows, watching the van trundle away down the long drive. 

"What have I told you about interfering?" 

Martin sighed. "You don't need more."

"I always need more, Martin. That's how this works."

"Well, maybe if you actually told me things instead of just being cryptic, then I could actually help."

A firm hand came down on his shoulder. "You don't want to help, Martin. You've made that very clear." 

The van reached the end of the drive and turned a corner, vanishing from sight. Martin let out an unsteady breath. 

"I'm sorry, Peter, but I can't let you do this to anyone else."

"Playing the hero? That's unlike you."

"Or maybe you just don't know me."

Peter smiled slowly. "Hmm. No, I think I know you very, very well." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you believe in ghosts?"  
> "Jon, we work for a ghost hunting show-"  
> "No, there is a difference between working here and believing any of this." Jon jabbed a finger at him. "Do you believe?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw//  
> -jon's in a bit of an obsessive spiral   
> -fanon typical martin's mum

"Jon, we're worried." 

"I'm fine." 

"Okay, first of all, liar." Tim sighed. "Second, talk to me, what's going on?"

Jon sighed, shoving another stack of papers out of his way. "It's none of your concern."

"Perhaps not, but you are. Whatever has happened, it is clearly bothering you and as your friend I would very much like to know how I can help." 

"There's nothing to be done, it's fine."

"Stop looking like you're seconds away from passing out and maybe I'll believe you."

Jon threw down a stack of papers, all bearing scribbled names and phone numbers that were leading nowhere except more headaches. 

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Jon, we work for a ghost hunting show-"

"No, there is a difference between working here and believing any of this." Jon jabbed a finger at him. "Do you _believe_?"

"I mean, I guess? My brother always did. I don't know, I just want undeniable proof I suppose, something that can actually make me go 'that can't have been coincidence'." 

"And have you found that yet?"

"Sort of?" Tim cocked his head to the side. "We've had a few things now that have made me stop and think."

"You believed, and you got proof. Georgie believes, and she gets proof all the time, it's all just psychological." Jon was shouting but he didn't care. "You're looking for patterns that you already think are going to be there, so you find them. That's it. I don't believe!"

Tim stared at him. "Jon... What happened?"

"I don't believe in ghosts." Jon demanded. He raised a hand to push his hair out of his face. It trembled in front of his eyes. 

"I know you don't. I know." Tim held up his hands placatingly.

"I don't." Jon heard his voice as if it were far away from him, disconnected from his being. "Why do I find proof?" 

"What proof? Moorland House?"

"Martin." 

Tim frowned, confused. "Who?"

"Moorland House. His name was Martin."

"What, the houses name?"

"No, Martin. The ghost." 

Tim blinked at him, once, twice, then frowned. "You're kidding."

"I'm very much not."

"You saw a ghost."

"Apparently."

"You?"

"Yes, Tim, me." 

Tim gawked at him. "No way. Does Georgie know?"

"I haven't told her."

"Why not? She'll be over the moon about this."

Jon scoffed. "What do I even say? 'Oh, by the way Georgie, you were right, ghosts are real and I've been calling you an idiot for the last decade of our friendship for absolutely no reason, whoopsie'. I can't look her in the eye ever again." He crumpled, burying his head in his hands. "God, I'm such a colossal asshole."

"Georgie's not going to think that. If anything, she'll be over the moon about the fact that she was right." Tim put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Talk to her. Tell her what happened, and then we can work this out as a team. Okay?" 

Jon took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Okay, I can do that." 

Tim gave him an encouraging pat. "There you go. I'm pretty sure she's in the kitchen. Hop to it, mister. I'll try and make sense of," He waved a hand at the scattered papers covering every available surface. "All this." 

Georgie was exactly where Tim said she would be, standing by the stovetop, spatula in hand. 

"Georgie..." Jon mumbled. 

She turned, fixing him with a smile. "Hello, you. I was wondering when you'd leave your little cave." 

"Georgie, I- I'm sorry." 

She frowned. "What for? Did you steal my shampoo again?"

Jon shook his head. "Something happened, back at Moorland House, that has made me reconsider certain aspects of our relationship-"

"Jon, you sound like you're trying to break up with me. You are aware that we aren't dating anymore, right?" 

"Please just let me finish." He sighed. "For quite some time now I've been denying the existence of the paranormal. But then, at Moorland House, I- Well, I saw a ghost."

She didn't look at him, just carefully put down the plate she was holding. "Are you messing with me?"

"No, I promise."

"What kind?"

"Full body apparition."

She gaped at him. "Fuck off." 

"His name is Martin." 

"He spoke to you?" 

"He told me to get out of the house, he seemed scared. I think that however he died, it was bad."

"Jon, I could kiss you." He grimaced, but she carried on. "This is perfect. I cannot express enough how brilliant this is. We have an actual ghost."

"Georgie, did you not listen to me? He was scared. He literally begged me to leave." 

"Jon, I don't think that a country house open to the public is going to be the source of something that bad. Someone would've noticed." 

He reached for her. "Georgie, please. I know I'm not going to be able to talk you out of going back, but we need to take it slowly. Let's do some research first. Please."

She stared at him. "You hate doing research. You never plan things."

"I know. But something about this... I don't know how to explain it but I want to _understand._ I need to. I can't explain it. Please just trust me on this." 

-

"Of course, yep. Yep. Okay, yep. Thank you for your help. Yep. Thank you, goodbye." Tim hung up the phone, annoyed. "Another dead end."

Georgie groaned. "Oh joy."

Jon pulled the sheet of paper towards himself. The words swam in front of his eyes. Sasha had gathered them a list of all the people named Martin who had signed the visitors log for Moorland House. It was painfully extensive. 

One more, then he could call it quits. Someone had to know what happened to Martin, someone had to remember him. 

"Remind me to buy Sasha some very expensive alcohol after this." He grumbled, punching the numbers into his phone and lifting to his ear. 

"She'll remind you, don't worry." Tim flopped backwards. 

The phone was picked up after a few rings. A woman's voice, grumpy and harsh, responded with a "Hello." 

"Hello. My name is Jon, I'm looking for information about someone named Martin who may have visited Moorland House-"

The woman cut him off with a scoff. "Is this a joke?"

"Uh, no ma'am."

"Right. Listen to me," There was a shifting sound as if she were sitting up. "I don't know where that ridiculous boy is and to be honest I don't care. If you find him, tell him to not bother crawling back, he's not welcome. Not after he disappeared like that. Who runs out on their own mother without so much as a note?" 

"I see." Jon felt like he'd stepped into something he shouldn't have. 

"I told him to not go near that place. He was always poking his nose in places he shouldn't have. He deserved whatever he got."

"Right." 

"He's no son of mine."

"I understand ma'am."

"He didn't listen to me, so I'll tell you this. Don't go near Moorland House. Don't be as much of an idiot as he was."

"Understood." 

She huffed, then hung up the phone. 

Jon stared at the blank screen for a moment. 

"Jon? Alright?" Tim sat up. 

He slowly looked up at them. They both stared at him expectantly. "I think I've found him."

Georgie grabbed her notebook. "What's his name?"

Jon ran a thumb over the name written on the piece of paper, feeling the bumps left in the page from where Sasha had written it. "Martin Blackwood." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the inherent romanticism of discovering what your ghost crushes name is 
> 
> up next: jon lives up to his title of 'biggest idiot in the world' and goes and pokes the paranormal


	3. haha noo don't be dead, you're so sexy aha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh jon you idiot, stop running back into danger

In the daytime, Moorland House looked far less ominous, enough that Jon felt slightly ridiculous about his reaction the other night. It was hard to be scared when there was this many guests milling out, families with small children working their way through the grounds and couples on days out laughing about how it was their dream home. 

Jon was on the second floor, standing in the corridor where he had seen Martin the first time, completely devoid of any actual plan of what to do should Martin tell him to leave again. He didn't want to leave. He needed to see him again. 

Admittedly, leaving without telling Georgie or Tim where he was going was probably a bad idea. He'd mumbled some excuse about on the ground research and then hurried out of the flat before they could argue. 

"Martin. I know you're here, please. I need to talk to you." Jon whispered. "It's me, it's Jon. The, ah, the ghost hunter, from the other night." 

He winced. God he felt like an idiot. 

"I was hoping to see you again. You- I've been researching." 

A woman walked past him, giving him a confused look. Right, mumbling to himself in a corridor while there were other guests about was probably a stupid idea. Awkwardly, he shuffled over to the edge of the corridor, giving the woman a tense smile as she pulled her family away from him. 

"God I hope you're actually real because otherwise I look like an idiot right now."

A hand grabbed his arm, pulling him through a staff door and into a store cupboard. Jon yelped. A voice shushed him, a grey face suddenly appearing in his view. _Martin_. 

"Are you an idiot?" Martin hissed. "I told you to leave and you take it as an invite to come back in the daytime?"

"I needed to see you." Jon tried to grab at him. His fingers passed straight through Martin's chest. 

" _Why?_ " 

"I needed to prove to myself that it actually happened. I've never believed in the paranormal before."

"So what, the first ghost you see you just go running back in willy-nilly?" Martin flapped his hands. "Seriously, why?"

"I don't know! I- I have questions and I didn't think there was ever going to be an answer for them, but then there was _you_ and suddenly, I don't know, things fell into place? It was like you made everything make sense." 

"Wow, I'm flattered." Martin deadpanned. "I'm so glad I get the opportunity to be your guinea pig."

"That's not what I'm saying-" 

"Then what are you saying? Please, explain to me why you thought this was a good idea, because I don't think you thought any of this through." Martin crossed his arms angrily.

Jon sighed, exasperated. "You- I- You're a ghost."

"Oh, you noticed?"

"Don't, please, let me just- Something happened to you here that left you terrified, and now you're stuck here forever. That's not good."

Martin looked at him for a long moment. "What are you getting at?" 

Jon took a deep breath. "Ghosts are formed after people with unfinished business die. You have something keeping you here and it scared you. It scared you so much that you literally begged me to leave, I just- I want to help." 

"You want to help me.... move on?" 

"Maybe?" Jon shrugged helplessly. "I- I wanted to see you." 

Martin took a deep breath. "Right. I can't say I'm happy to see you since I was the one who told you not to come back but... Thank you." 

Jon smiled at him tentatively. Martin smiled back. 

"Jon, right?" 

"Oh, ah, yes." Jon said.

"Well then, Jon, you said you'd been researching. Find anything interesting?"

Jon winced and looked away as he remembered the woman's voice over the phone. "I was trying to figure out who you were. I may have called your mother." He glanced back at Martin. 

He didn't seem angry or upset. He just looked tired. "How is she?"

"We didn't talk for long. She expressed some, ah, opinions about your situation that I didn't agree with."

"Yeah that sounds like her. She's very sick, it takes its toll."

"Right." Jon said, unconvinced. 

"I used to look after her. I shouldn't have left like that, it wasn't fair to her."

"Martin, no." Jon reached out to put a hand on his arm. It passed straight through. "Dammit, why does that happen?" 

Martin smiled a little sadly. "Weird, huh?" He placed his hand on Jon's arm. "As far as I can tell, I can touch people but people can't touch me." 

"Why?"

"No idea. And don't ask me to explain how it knows the difference, I have no idea. I just work here."

Jon blinked, once, twice. "Was that a joke?"

"A bad one. Sorry."

"Don't apologise. I- I liked it. It was good."

"Liar." Martin said. It had no heat behind it. 

"Alright, maybe it was a bit terrible. But still," Jon smiled. "It was nice to see you smile."

Martin's cheeks turned a shade darker. "Uh, thanks. You, ah, your smile is nice too."

"Oh!" Jon felt himself blush. "Ah, thank you." 

"You're welcome." Martin beamed at him, looking a little sheepish. 

"Yes, well, hmm." Jon cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, I had some questions."

"If you promise you'll leave afterward."

"I promise."

"Good. Did you have any recording equipment?"

"What?"

Martin gave him a ' _come on, keep up_ ' look. "This may surprise you, Jon, but I've been questioned by ghost hunters a lot. I don't usually respond. I know that your lot generally like to record things." 

"Oh, right." Georgie would kill him if he didn't get evidence. He shrugged his bag off his shoulder, rifling through it for the tape recorder he knew he'd stuffed into it as he left that morning. He pulled it out triumphantly and presented it to Martin, who raised his eyebrows.

"Really?" 

"What?" 

"That thing?"

"What's wrong with it?" He asked, suddenly defensive. 

"It's just very old fashioned. Usually you lot use something a bit more high tech."

"Very sorry that it doesn't live up to your high standards."

"I'm not insulting it, it's cute."

Jon scowled. "It's not cute."

"It kind of is." 

"It's for academic research." He explained primly. "Recording devices like this one have been proven to capture evidence of the supernatural far better than a lot of modern technology."

"Of course, my mistake." Martin grinned, seemingly not apologetic at all. 

Jon sighed. "Do you mind? I don't have to record this."

"Go ahead." 

Jon nodded and clicked the tape recorder on. "Right. Okay, ah, Martin-"

"Yes Jon?"

"You, um, you told me to leave."

"Yes I did. And then you came back, despite it being _highly dangerous and extremely idiotic."_ He leant towards the recorder for that.

"Yes, alright." Jon felt himself smile. "I just- why? Why tell me to leave like that? What happened to you here that made you so scared?"

Martin's smile was gone, replaced by something melancholy and grave. "That's not the question you want to ask, is it?"

"Martin-"

"No. Don't skirt around it. Ask the question." 

"You don't have to tell me."

"I want to. It's been a very long time since I've been able to talk to someone about this. I'd rather you just asked rather than pretending you aren't curious."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

"Okay." Jon took a deep breath. "How did you die?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone concerned about if this was going to be gay or not, they did just have a heartfelt talk inside a literal closet


	4. spooky ghost time babey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up, this is written in first person, but martin does refer to a 'you' near the end  
> for people that struggle with unreality/depersonalisation, this isn't talking about you. this is talking about jon, you are safe and well  
> look after yourselves <3

I think I was seventeen when I heard about this place for the first time. My mum had watched a documentary about it over dinner one night and I guess it stuck with me. I mean, you've seen this place, it's impressive. 

A little while passed and I got a new job. It was so weird, it was the library of this research place in London, I was basically just putting books on shelves, but the pay was better than any other job I'd ever had. I actually had some money saved. 

I wanted to surprise my mum. I saved up some money and bought us train tickets to Kent so that we could come here. I gave them to her for her birthday, thinking that I'd finally actually done something she would enjoy. It wasn't so bad at first, we came here and she mostly ignored me, which generally qualified as a good day. And then something happened. I don't really know what, looking back I think she must've seen one of the other ghosts and got spooked. She started shouting at me, telling me I'd ruined everything, that we never should've come here. Pretty basic stuff to be honest. None of it was particularly inspired. 

It was several years before I ever thought about that place again. I probably would've gone the rest of my life never going back until something happened at work. 

My boss was creepy. You know the weird bureaucrat type? He was one of them. He lurked a lot. Always hovering about in dark corners. 

He told me he needed me to research something. I worked in the Library, but it wasn't unheard of for something like that to happen. The researchers were stretched a bit more thin than we were, so people from other departments sometimes leant a hand. My boss asked me to come here. Apparently some of the research that had been done in our facility needed the attention of the guy who owned this place. They were old friends I think, and apparently my boss wanted his attention on an 'important matter of business'. 

When I got here, I knocked on the door. No one answered but it sort of opened on its own. Kind of felt like a horror movie. But like, a really cliche one. I was stood in the foyer waiting for someone to turn up when I heard a scream.

It was a woman's voice. She was shouting something, I couldn't make it out. I thought she might've been down in the basement, so I went down to have a look. I'm not the most heroic person in the world, but it was better than nothing. I found the cellar door and tried the handle but I think was locked or maybe jammed. It sounded like there was something propped against the door behind it. I was trying to get it open when I thought hand on my shoulder. It was cold, colder than anything I've ever felt before but when I turned it was just a man.

He- He didn't seem malicious at first. He seemed almost- I don't know, friendly? Like he could actually help. He told me that he was going to open the door, I just needed to step back. I let him get past, and he tried the handle. It- it opened immediately I don't know how but it was like there was never anything there. The cellar was dark one of those old musty smelling ones from old houses. He asked me to go first and I don't know why, I think I was so scared about the woman , I just went down the stairs. I heard him say something and the door slammed behind me. 

I was so alone. You know the kind of aloneness that feels like you'll never see another person again? It was like that. I tried to get the door open but he must've locked it or something. I was alone. Any sign of the woman was just gone. I don't know how I knew but I just sat down and realised I was going to die there. I was sort of resigned to it I guess. It didn't feel scary, it just felt right. I'd lived to so much my life on my own that of course I was going to die like that as well. I'm pretty sure my bones are still here somewhere but I couldn't tell you where he put them. That's why I wanted you to go. I don't want the same thing to happen to you as well.

Don't give me that look, I know you think you're invincible, but... Stay safe, okay?

Promise me that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of this chapter was practice for my own podcast, i find exploring the concept of haunted houses super fun so if i write an episode like this for my podcast, no i didn't <3


	5. plot actually happens in this one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the very long break, it was not planned, here's a longer chapter to make up for it

"Ah, uh, Professor Bouchard!" Jon dodged past a woman who tutted at him. "Professor Bouchard!"

Bouchard turned and smiled, all practiced grace and elegance. "Jon! It's been a while." 

"I, ah, sorry for ambushing you like this, but I had some questions."

"No trouble at all." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder and pulled him in the direction of his office. Jon followed obediently. "Always a pleasure to see an old friend. And really Jon, I'm not your teacher anymore. Call me Elias." 

Bouc- Elias sat him down at his desk with a firm pat on the shoulder. For a single ridiculous moment, Jon felt like a student again. "You aren't working at the university anymore?" He said, gesturing at the office that was substantially nicer than the one he had spent an admittedly ridiculous amount of his early twenties in. 

"Oh no, I got offered this position- Goodness, it must've been almost a decade ago. Just after you graduated, I believe." 

"Congratulations." 

Elias waved the praise away with the easy informality Jon had always envied. "It was a while ago now. Anyway, what can I do for you?" 

"I had a question about someone who might have worked here.

"Ah, I see. I have some employee records here," he reached for a drawer in the desk. "Did you happen to catch the name?" 

"Martin Blackwood?" 

Elias paused, one hand hovering over the drawer. "Martin Blackwood?"

"The name came up in some research I am working on. He apparently had a job at a research institute and when I saw your name on the website," Jon spread his hands, gesturing to the office in a way that he hoped mimicked Elias' own mannerisms. Mimicry had always been something Jon was good at, much more than the actual act of forming his own habits. It was easier to blend in that way, become the person that whoever he was talking to assumed he was rather than his own identity. "I thought how amusing the coincidence would be." 

Elias gave him a long, hard stare. "Yes. Amusing." He clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on his desk. "I'm sorry Jon, I'm afraid I don't think we have an employee of that name." 

"It would've been a few years ago. He's- He's deceased now." 

"Ah, well, that explains it. I'm afraid I don't know, I'd have to ask Rosie about that. Why don't I pass on the request and have her get back to you if she finds anything?"

"Of course." Progress. Less than Jon would've hoped for. He was sick of waiting. "Thank you." 

"No trouble at all, Jon." Elias stood and opened the door. "I'm afraid I have a meeting this afternoon otherwise I'd offer to talk longer. I'm sure you understand." 

"Of course." He stood and gathered his belongings. "Oh, if it helps, I believe he died at Moorland House in Kent. That might narrow the search a bit."

Elias gave him a thin smile. "Every factor is helpful. Thank you, Jon." 

-

Jon was pacing. 

He knew Georgie knew he was pacing. She wasn't looking at him, but she also hadn't turned her page for at least the last five of Jon's laps around the room. 

"Jon?" 

"I'm fine."

"Damn, now I owe Tim a fiver."

He paused, turning to her. "What?"

She shrugged. "He said that if I asked you what was wrong you would say that you're fine. I bet you wouldn't acknowledge it at all." 

"I- please don't bet on me like that."

"That's another fiver."

"Georgie."

"Sorry." She put down her book. "So what's up?"

He shook his head, staring into space. "It's nothing." 

"Jon? You have that look on your face that says you're about to do something stupid and not tell us. What are you planning?"

"Nothing." Jon told her. He grabbed his coat and bag off the back of one of the chairs. "It's fine. I'm going to the shops."

"You're not smoking again are you?"

Jon paused. "Yes I am." He lied.

"Oh for goodness sake, what happened to quitting?"

"It's just the one."

"This is the least convincing you've ever been. This is about Martin isn't it?"

"No." He lied again. That was new, he was usually terrible at lying. 

"Jon, it's okay to be stressed about this." Georgie sat forward. "This has clearly had a big effect on you and it's understandable that you are having to take some time to adjust."

"Thank you for understanding."

"Promise me it's just the one."

Jon frowned, confused. 

"Cigarette. Promise me it actually is just one."

"Oh," Jon suddenly remembered his lie. "Yeah, just the one, totally, I promise." 

"Okay." She gave him a long look. "Go on. Don't be ages."

"I won't." 

Outside, he flagged down a taxi. 

"Euston Station please." He said to the driver climbing inside. 

It was late, but hopefully there would be one last train running to Kent. 

He had something he needed to do. 

-

Jon took the steps two at a time, heart pounding. As he reached for the doorknob, it swung open with an ominous creak. Taking a deep breath, Jon stepped inside, quickly casting his torch around the room. 

"You really can't help yourself can you?"

He span around. Martin was leant against the door, a small, tired smile on his face. 

"Sue me. I want to help you." 

"How?"

"Your bones. You said he had hidden them somewhere."

Martin nodded slowly. "As far as I know." 

"Do you have any idea where?"

"Jon, what are you doing here?" 

Jon took a deep breath. "There are theories that ghosts can be moved from locations if the thing tying them there is moved."

"So you think... my bones?"

"It's worth a shot. Unless you can think of anything else keeping you here?" 

Martin shook his head, soft translucent curls bouncing with the motion. "No, there's nothing." 

"Right. Do you know where they might be?"

Martin gave him an odd look. "Uh, upstairs maybe? Mr Lukas' office is up there."

"That's feels like a good place to start. Come on." Jon set off in the direction of the stairs. After a beat, Martin followed him, catching up easily with his long strides. 

"What's your plan after this?"

Jon waved it away with a gesture he hoped looked casual. "We can work it out after. We need this first step." 

"So your plan.... is just to wing it?"

Jon shrugged. "Basically."

Martin chuckled dryly. "Good to know. Here." He gestured to one of the doors off the landing. 

Jon pushed open the door carefully. Inside was a large desk lined with papers. 

"This is Peter's office. I don't actually know what his work is, he's away a lot. Something with ships I think." 

Jon hummed with faux curiosity. He was reluctant to learn anything about this man who had done this to Martin. It made him seem too human to picture him hunched over this desk scratching words into these pieces of paper. 

Jon crouched next to the desk and opened a few of the drawers. They were all unremarkable, mostly just more papers and a few personal items. 

Frustrated, Jon yanked open the bottom drawer. Inside where a few papers that were easy enough to push to one side. 

"Anything?" Martin asked. 

"No, I- Wait." Jon ran his finger along the edge of the drawer. There was a soft click and the false bottom lifted away. 

In the bottom sat a pile of human bones. 

Martin leant around his shoulder. "That's....that's them." 

"Really?" 

"They're mine, Jon, I think I'd recognise them." 

"Oh, right. I'll, um, hmm. Do you mind?" His hand hovered above them. 

Martin gestured for him to go ahead. Jon shrugged off the large backpack Georgie had once bought him for when they went camping and set about carefully easing the bones out of the drawer. Martin watched him with a slightly amused smile. 

"You know, I thought this would bother me more."

"Hmm?" 

"Those are my bones. And you're just..." He waved a hand. "Picking them up."

"Martin, I really don't need you to make this stranger than it already is."

"Sorry." He said, completely unapologetic. "Ha. My skull. Freaky." 

"Martin..." Jon warned, tucking the last few of the bones into the bag.

"Who keeps bones in a desk drawer, that's just looking for trouble. And they're way cleaner than they should be. I know he cleaned them up after I died but wow, that's a lot." 

"Martin, please." 

"Sorry." 

Jon gave him a long look, trying to fight the smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth. He lost. "It is strange, isn't it?"

"Very, very strange. Are you done? You didn't forget a toe or anything, did you?" 

"No, Martin, I didn't forget any of your bones." 

"Good." Martin gave him a lopsided smile. Jon felt himself smile back. 

Jon returned the desk drawer to it's original position and followed Martin out of the room.

As they headed down the stairs, Jon felt a little giddy with excitement. They'd found the bones, they were able to get Martin out of this awful place. 

He was so caught up in his thoughts he almost walked straight into Martin. 

"What's wrong?" 

"There's voices." Martin whispered. "Come on." 

They hurried down the stairs as quietly as they could and Martin shooed him down a side corridor, shooting furtive glances behind them. Finally, Martin pulled him into a room. Desperately, Jon looked about, taking in the shelves full of books. 

"Martin, there's nowhere to hide." 

"Yes there is, come here." 

Martin moved a curtain out the way and knelt down, running his hands along the floorboards. His fingers dug into a small, concealed gap and he yanked backwards, pulling one of them away, revealing a small hole in the ground.

"Here." Martin gestured for Jon to climb down. 

The footsteps approached the door. Frantically, Jon dropped down into the hole, Martin close behind him. He reached up and pulled the board back across the opening, shrouding them in darkness. 

"What is this?" Jon hissed. 

"A priest hole. They were used for hiding priests in the Elizabethan era." 

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but the door to the room above them opened. He shrank back away from the trapdoor, pressing his back to the wall, one shoulder merging with Martin. Voices filtered down from above them, and Jon's heart stopped. 

"Peter, this is serious. Once one person starts poking around, more will come." 

The voice made Jon feel eighteen years old again, sat in an office talking to a man who seemed to know everything in the world.

"I have it under control, Elias."

"Do you?" Elias spat. "Because you seem to be incapable of dealing with your own people, let alone outsiders." 

"You're the one who is supposed to keep them away from here. That was your part of this little deal. Or have you forgotten in your old age?" Peter Lukas' voice was amused and lilting. 

"He will find you, Peter. At this rate, I'm almost inclined to let him."

Martin put a hand on Jon's knee and Jon finally noticed that he was shaking. Full body tremors ran down his spine and his hands trembled as he lifted one to press it to his mouth, the other gripping the backpack tightly. 

"Ouch. I'm hurt, Elias." 

"Good." 

"Petty."

"Don't be ridiculous. I came here in good faith to help you fix all of the mistakes that you made. Don't act like I'm not doing you a service here." 

"Tut tut, Elias. So much negativity."

"For goodness sake, can you please take this seriously." 

"How much damage can one man do? You've made it clear that he doesn't know what's going on here, so I hardly think he's a threat."

"Therein lies your first mistake." Elias said slowly. "Anyone can be a threat."

"If you let yourself be cowed by every ghost hunter, you'll never relax. Lighten up." 

"No. Not until this problem is dealt with."

There was a long pause and the sound of someone moving, and then Lukas spoke again, his voice far darker and more insidious. "Then deal with it." 

Jon wasn't sure how long he spent in that tiny space, with Martin's presence as the only thing stopping him from spiralling, but by the time the voices retreated, leaving the room above them quiet, his limbs had cramped and his face was blotchy with tears. Martin shifted, reaching up in the darkness to move the board off the opening and climb out, murmuring reassurances as Jon forced his stiff limbs into movement. 

"I'm so sorry. I should've asked if you were claustrophobic." Martin knelt next to him as Jon curled up on the floor next to the hole, flexing his hands to work the blood around them. 

"It's not that. It's- That was Elias. I knew him. I went to him for help."

"That- What?"

"I asked him if he knew you."

"He was my boss." Martin whispered. "He's the one that sent me here."

Jon nodded weakly. "And now he's working with Lukas." 

Martin let out an unsteady breath that fogged in the air in front of him. "I can't say I'm surprised. He was always really creepy."

"Not when I knew him. He was a good man, a long time ago." 

Martin gave Jon a mournful look, then stood, glancing around the room. "We should go. If we sneak out via the kitchen we should avoid them." 

Jon nodded and pushed himself up, ignoring his protesting muscles. He stumbled along behind Martin, desperately trying to keep quiet. Martin led him through a side corridor and out of the kitchen, quietly opening a back door. Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting sickly grey light across the garden. Jon set off at a run towards the fence, Martin close by his side. Jon's heart pounded. Every step took them further from Lukas and Elias and closer to Martin's freedom. 

As they approached the fence, Martin slowed. 

"What if it doesn't work?"

Jon held out a hand, palm up, an open offer for Martin to take. "Then we'll work something out. You don't have to be there anymore, I promise. I will find a way to get you away from him."

Martin looked at him, grey eyes shining in the dawn light. He put his hand in Jon's, an icy point of pressure that made Jon's heart dance. It was like a thousand snowy days compressed into one, all of the times he had forgotten his gloves on the way to the bus stop in high school and had to rub his hands together to fight off the chill. Memories of his grandmother tucking his scarf around his neck, of Georgie cupping his hands with her own, of Tim throwing his coat around Jon's shoulders when he got too cold, all floated into his mind, completely unbidden and quickly dashed away by _Martin._ Only Martin. Nothing else was needed, no extra embellishments or finery. All of that distracted from the man in front of him, the one who was putting his afterlife in Jon's hands, trusting him even when he stumbled. 

"We should go." Martin said, his voice barely a whisper. 

"Right, right, of course." Jon reluctantly let go in order to scramble through the gap in the fence. He turned to help Martin through, only to find him already on the other side, a small sheepish smile on his face. "Oh."

"I can walk through walls. It's a ghost thing."

Jon felt himself smile. "Of course." He held out his hand again and they set off across the field. 

He kept his fingers firmly wrapped around Martin's for the entire train ride back to London, watching as Martin stared out of the window with wonder at the countryside passing them by. The further they got from Moorland House, the more weight was lifted off Jon's chest. Perhaps... he hardly dared hope, but even then there was the faintest glimmer that maybe, just maybe, this would work. 

-

This early in the morning, their building was quiet. Not even the asshole from the floor below them was playing his music. The rows of identical doors almost hurt Jon's head as he stumbled down the corridor, exhaustion finally catching up with him. Martin held out a hand to catch him a couple of times, his icy skin vanishing as soon as Jon reached out for him. 

Jon unlocked the door to his flat, hoping ridiculously that Martin wouldn't judge it too harshly. 

Tim's shoes were dumped in the hallway. Jon stepped around them and into the living room.

"Tim? Georgie?" 

Tim's head appeared around the door to the kitchen. "Hey! Georgie's pissed at you. She was considering reporting you missing." 

"Understandable." He turned to Martin who was still hovering awkwardly in the doorway. "This is Tim, he's our camera man."

Tim waved. "Hello Jon's new friend." 

"Hi." Martin waved back, ducking his head awkwardly like he wasn't used to the attention. 

"Are you going to introduce us properly, Jon?" Tim asked, leaning against the wall. 

"This is, ah, hmm." Jon looked up at Martin. Despite having plenty of time to think about it, he hadn't fully come up with an explanation as to why he had done what he did, and now that he was expected to explain things, he kept drawing a blank. Honesty was his only option now. "This is Martin." 

Tim blinked, once, twice, then broke out into a massive grin. "Jon. Did you kidnap a ghost?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you thought this wouldn't have lonelyeyes in it?? a fic with a name this dumb??


	6. this is so dialogue heavy im so sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> listen, i love hacker sasha, it is the best concept ever, don't @ me

Jon's friends were... it was unfair to say odd, Martin could hardly judge them, being dead and all, but they existed in a strange rhythm with each other that Martin couldn't quite figure out. 

"So let me get this straight." Georgie took a deep breath. "You told me you were going to get a cigarette," she pointed at Jon. "And instead you got on a train to Kent to break into a country estate so that you could talk to a ghost, and then proceeded to bring the ghost back to London?"

Jon nodded like it was obvious. 

In some ways, it was reassuring to know that Jon was like this with everyone. Georgie's tired exasperation was a charmingly familiar emotion. It was one he had felt multiple times in the short span he had known Jon. 

"Jonathan Sims, I swear to god-"

"What was I supposed to do, Georgie? Leave Martin there?" 

She fell quite, frustratedly running a hand through her hair. Tim stood and put a hand on Jon's arm. 

"Jon, you should've told us. This was dangerous."

"I already told him that." Martin piped up. "He didn't listen."

"Don't you start." Jon gave him an annoyed look. "Listen, I know it was a bad idea, but it worked out! Martin's here, we can help. What Lukas and Elias are doing, it's beyond evil. We need to stop them. If I can take them down then-"

"Hold up, hold up, wait." Tim held up a hand. "Take them down? What are you talking about, Jon?" 

Jon made a frustrated noise. "Tim, they're killing people. We don't know how many they've already killed and we don't know why, but we have to stop it."

"So call the police!" Tim was almost shouting. "It's as simple as that! We don't need to do anything else!" 

"And say what?" Jon spat. "I know they're evil because a ghost told me? It's ridiculous, we need more solid proof-"

"The _bones_ weren't enough? Jon, listen to yourself, this is-"

The sound of Jon's phone ringing cut through the argument. His shrill, preset ringtone sounded out from the table, echoing around the more silent flat. 

"You should answer." Georgie said, picking up the phone and holding it out to Jon.

"Right, yeah, that's- Right." He took it and hit the button.

"Hello?" Jon's eyes widened and he pulled the phone away from his ear, scrambling to put it on speaker. 

"- _found something about that employee of ours you were looking for._ " The end of Elias' sentence was enough to set Martin's teeth on edge. 

"Um-" Jon floundered, desperately looking at them all. Tim grabbed a notebook and a pen and gestured at Jon to keep the conversation going. "Ah, well, thank you."

" _No trouble at all_." Elias sounded cheery. " _I'm afraid there isn't much I can offer. It seems that he suddenly quit the Institute, said he'd been offered a job on a ship quite unexpectedly. Rather unorthodox I believe, but you know how these things go. We haven't heard from him since. I had Rosie ask around, but it seems he simply didn't stay in touch with anyone here._ " 

"Right." Jon's voice sounded thin. His grip on the phone was white knuckled. 

" _Rosie was also able to dig up the name of the ship. The Tundra._ "

Tim lurched for his phone and quickly typed something in. 

"Umm, thank you, this- This is helpful." 

" _Of course. And Jon?_ " 

"Yes?" 

" _Do let me know if you need any more assistance. I'd be happy to provide any of the numerous resources at my disposal."_

"Thank you."

" _I must be going now, but I do hope you get to the bottom of this mystery soon. Goodbye, Jon._ " 

He hung up before Jon could respond. 

Martin let out a breath that he didn't need anymore. "Wow, he's so much more creepy when you know what you're looking for."

"God, to think that we trusted him." Georgie looked at Jon. "We used to look up to him." 

"We didn't know." Jon turned to Martin. "How do you feel?"

Martin shrugged. "I honestly don't know. He's awful, I recognise that, but- I just don't care about him anymore. What else can he do to me?"

Jon gave him a small half-smile and they fell into a quiet, contemplative silence. Martin's hands itched to make a pot of tea but he wasn't certain he could stay corporeal long enough to not break Georgie's teapot. 

Tim dropped down onto the sofa next to Jon and put his head on his shoulder, a quiet offering of peace that Jon seemed to accept with a gentle pat on Tim's knee.

Tim phone rang a moment later. He fumbled to check it. "It's Sasha." He picked up. "Hey Sash, you're on speaker."

" _I don't know where you found this ship, but it has some weird stuff going on."_ She said, without preamble. None of the others seemed surprised by this, so Martin went along with it. _"I don't know exactly what you were looking for, but I've dug up a whole bunch. Tim, there's whole forums about this ship_." 

"What would we do without you Sasha?"

She continued as if Tim hasn't spoken. " _You would be amazed about how many ghost stories spring up around things like this. Is Jon there?_ "

"Hello." Jon said. 

" _Jon, you would love this. There's so much, literally pages and pages of theories. Some people think the ship is haunted, some people think that the dude who owns the ship, this Peter Lukas guy or whatever, supposedly he made a deal with this being or something. Reports vary, some people think it's a demon, some people-_ "

"Wait, Peter owns the ship?" Martin cut in. 

Sasha went quiet. There was a drawn out pause before she spoke again. 

" _What was that?_ "

"Sash, this is Martin, he's..." Tim looked up at him. "He's a friend of Jon's."

" _That was a person?_ " 

"What did you think it was?" Georgie asked. 

" _Just static._ "

"Huh." Jon looked over at Martin. "Has that ever happened before?"

"I've not really had the chance to phone anyone since I died."

"What about other recording equipment? You showed up on the tape recorder." 

"I wouldn't really know." 

Georgie chewed on her lip, staring at Martin. She looked like she wanted to do more research on him, and he fidgeted uncomfortably under her stare. "Jon's camera went weird the first time you guys met, so maybe it's a ghost thing?" 

" _Wait, Martin's a ghost?_ " 

"It's a long story." Tim rubbed at the crease between his eyebrows. "Jon sort of kidnapped him." 

" _I need to hear this story._ " 

"I'll explain later. 

" _You better_. _So what times the hunt?_ " 

"Sorry?" 

" _The Tundra, I thought you were going tonight_."

Tim frowned at his phone. "Why?" 

" _Well, it's in port. It leaves in the morning._ " 

"Elias must've been hoping you rush into something stupid." Martin muttered, glancing at Jon. He looked faintly chastised. Martin gaped at him. "You can't be serious? Why would you think that was a good plan?" 

"You've met him, right?" Georgie asked. "Like, you've seen his track record." 

"Jon, it's too dangerous." Martin reached out to him. "You can't do this."

"Martin, he killed you." Jon said, like it explained everything away. He looked at Martin with a plaintive expression on his face. 

"Exactly! He's a monster, he doesn't care about what happens to people. He will not hesitate to do to you exactly what he did to me."

Jon ran his hands through his hair frustratedly, small wisps of it escaping the bin he had thrown it into in a way that Martin would usually find adorable. "None of you have to come with me. I'd rather you stayed out of this, if someone is going to get hurt, it's better that it's me than all of you. No, don't." He stoped Georgie just as she was about to interrupt. "If we go to the police, they might not get there in time. Tim-"

"You're right." 

Jon blinked at Tim. "What?" 

"We have to stop them." Tim sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. "I'm not happy about this plan, but you're just going to do it anyway. You need someone keeping an eye on you." 

Jon smiled. "Thank you." 

Tim waved the gratitude away. "For the record, this is a trap."

"Almost definitely. Is that really going to stop us?" Georgie grinned. 

Jon "I mean, what's the worst that could-"

"No. Stop." Tim held up a hand. "Don't finish that thought. That's how you guarantee something absolutely terrible is going to happen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tim heard the name of something that would need researching and went 'i know just the woman' 
> 
> also she was just fully sitting there listening to them having the discussion at the end going 'what the fuck is happening? :)'

**Author's Note:**

> jon gets proof once and immediately panics 
> 
> come find me [on insta](https://www.instagram.com/statement_boo_gins/) or [on tumblr,](https://oakleaf--bearer.tumblr.com/) i take requests/prompts on both
> 
> comments and kudos keep me writing, pls leave some!


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